


Cold Comfort

by abbas_ragamuffin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbas_ragamuffin/pseuds/abbas_ragamuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma/Gold commiserate over past non/con in their lives. Eventually they help each other in other ways. This combined three different prompts on the ouatkinkmeme. Started out as a one shot and just kept going. non/con only referenced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or any characters herein. 
> 
> The story is complete on ff.net, but I decided to re-post it because I somehow didn't include about four chapters. So I will update a few chapters every week or so.
> 
> They do discuss what happened in their pasts, so there is a trigger warning in Chapter 1 for non/con. It doesn't go in to explicit detail, but just so you know it is there.

His long, slender fingers reverently traced the edges of a chipped tea cup, relieved it was back in his hands. There are few things in this world that he truly cherished, and this fragile piece of porcelain was one of them. Gold sat in his jail cell, watching Regina poking around the Sherriff's office, anxiously waiting for the return of her son. What  _was_  taking so long? He wanted to be rid of Regina and he wanted his ice cream cone. Thankfully, he didn't have much longer to wait as laughter erupted through the hallway. Emma and Henry walked in together hand in hand, whispering in a huddle.

“At last, Miss Swan; I do believe I said thirty minutes; not thirty-seven.” Regina chided coldly, stepping from the office. Emma rolled her eyes as Henry broke away to give Mr. Gold the ice cream cone.

“Here,” he said, holding the cone through the bars. “I hope you like mint chocolate chip.” Gold flashed Henry a genuine smile; staring at the mountainous green scoops on a waffle cone.

“Thank you, Henry; it just so happens I love mint.” He replied, placing the tea cup on the mattress beside him. Emma's curiosity flared when she saw the teacup, making a mental note to inquire about it later. C _ould that seriously be what Gold almost killed someone over?_   

“Henry, come away from there.” Regina scolded. As hard as it was for Emma, she met Regina's eyes.

“Thank you, for letting me see him…” Emma said, looking between her and Gold. “…for whatever the reason.”

Regina smiled cruelly, “Don't get used to it…let's go Henry.” She called as she brushed past Emma. Henry smiled up at his birth mother as she tossed his dark hair loosely, smiling back.

“Bye Emma!” he called, trying to catch up to Regina.

“See ya, kid…” she whispered, staring after him. Gold studied her from his cell; watching Emma's expressions change from happiness, to longing; sorrow, to shame; and finally to resignation. Her bright emerald green eyes grew dark and hollow. He knew why, though she never told him; never told anyone.

“Is everything alright, Sherriff?” Gold asked when Emma still hadn't moved several moments later. Shaken from her thoughts by the sound of his voice, Emma forced a smile.

“Yes, of course I am,” She said, trying to sound convincing. Gold stared at her skeptically; sucking small bits of ice cream into his mouth. It was like he was challenging her to a fight; the way he leveled her with those eyes. She shifted nervously under his gaze.

“What did Regina want with you anyway? What was so important that she'd let me see Henry?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. Gold smiled as he diverted his gaze to the ground.

“Oh just a chat between old adversaries…” he said slowly, his words thickly accented. Even though she had asked the question, Gold could tell she hadn’t heard the answer as she nodded numbly. Her eyes were filled with sadness as they focused on the desk that separated them. He knew it was a long shot, but he figured he would at least make the offer.

“You seem…haunted, Sherriff. Any dark secrets that you'd like to get off your chest?” Emma cocked an eyebrow and smirked, trying to remain guarded. _Did he actually expect her to answer that?_

“Even if I did have  _dark secrets_ , you are the last person I'd share them with, Gold.” She said incredulously, walking to her office. She watched him, distracted as he drew his tongue along the edge of the cone, pulling her chair to the desk. “By the way, how's your ice cream?”

“Delicious…” he whispered, eyeing her suggestively as Emma rolled her eyes, “…and Sherriff, you're not the only one that can spot a liar, dearie; we all have dark secrets.” Emma shot him her classic,  _don't-test-me-or-I'll-beat-you-bloody-senseless_ , stare. A broad smile formed on his lips; his dark eyes dancing mischievously.

“If you change your mind about that chat, Sherriff, my door is always open…” he offered mockingly, eyeing the bars that locked him in.

Ignoring his comment, Emma simply stared at her computer screen; it was going to be a long night. She tried to appear busy, feeling the weight of his stare. It irritated her to no end – these mind games he seemed to enjoy playing. There were times she wanted to strangle him with her bare hands. But there were also times when she felt he was the only person here who could, or more importantly would, help her.

Gold watched as her eyes went hollow once more, knowing exactly the scene that was playing in her mind. He made it his business to know what happened to Emma; she was to be his savior after all. Even though she still didn't know it he had been hers, though he came too late. _Just like Bae; just like Belle_. His fingertips traced the rim of the cup, holding it tight against his leg as he finished the last of his cone.

***********************************************************************************

Gold woke with a start to the sound of Emma…whimpering? He shot up, looking around for signs of trouble. She was still sitting at her desk with her hands flat, her arms spread to the sides on her desk. She had fallen asleep on a pile of papers, and by the looks of it was now in the throes of a violent nightmare. He watched helplessly as she began thrashing about, papers and objects crashing to the floor. Her soft pleas of, ' _no, please stop; you're hurting me...'_  filled his ears and a thousand vile images filled his mind. Pressing his forehead against the bars his eyes drifted closed, wishing he had his powers so he could ease her mind. It made his blood boil to hear her pained and tearful cries; it was obvious what she was reliving the events of that dreadful night. Had he just arrived sooner, he could’ve prevented it all together, but alas, here they were.

“Emma!” he called out finally, hoping his voice would wake her. It had no effect. She continued to thrashing, her whimpering turning into full blown crying. “No…please, I'm sorry…I'm sorry; I'll be good I promise…” he heard her yell.

“Emma! Wake up…” he called again, his fists tightening around the bars. Her arm swept across the desk, knocking the phone and just about everything else along with it to the ground. “EMMA!” Gold screamed, one last time; his booming voice reverberating off the walls.

“NO!” She cried loudly as she shot up; her body jerked violently slamming her knee into the top of the desk. “Ow…” she sighed painfully, rubbing her knee as she brought her head to the edge of the desk. Gold gave her a moment to catch her breath, regretting that the bastard responsible for her pain still drew breath.

“Sherriff Swan, are you alright?” he called softly from his cell.

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. The sound of his voice, though normally soothing with that accent, was like nails on a chalk board. The floor around her desk was littered with papers, pens and everything else that had been on her desk. She felt her face flush with embarrassment that Gold not only witnessed the spectacle, but likely heard it as well. Steeling her nerves she inhaled deeply, determined not to let him see her sweat.

“Do I look alright to you, Gold?” she asked sharply, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she reclined back in her chair. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes and cheeks wet with fresh tears.

“Well, there's no need to get snarky.” He answered, his voice low, but gentle. “It's obvious you're not alright. I was merely expressing my concern, opening the door with a question in case you wanted to talk.”

Emma noted the change in his voice immediately. There was no sarcasm, no mocking or teasing tones. Her eyes narrowed skeptically, staring at him from her office as she massaged her knee absently. From this distance, he actually looked sad and worried. Emma would’ve laughed at the thought if he wasn’t standing there staring at her. He seemed genuine in his concern, but everything she had seen and heard about him since she arrived here told her that wasn’t possible. This was just another one of his mind games…

“What's your angle, Gold? What do you want from me?” she demanded, storming to his cell. Gold closed his eyes, shaking his head sadly in response to her immediate paranoia and defensiveness. Then again, he couldn’t blame her. Gold has only ever wanted to protect Emma, her being his Savior it was the least he could do. Thus far he has failed miserably and blowing her up in Regina’s office – even though she wasn’t the target – definitely did nothing to assure her that he meant her no harm. In this moment, he found an opportunity to change that; to hopefully help her where no else has.

“I don't have an angle, dearie. I don't need or want anything from you. But perhaps, you need something from me, which I am humbly offering...” he said gently, placing a hand to his chest. Emma scoffed at the notion of him doing anything noble or kind…s _o help me God if he's offering to have sex with me…_

“Oh yea, and what's that?” she countered, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. 

“Someone to listen…” he replied immediately, grinning at the shocked look on Emma's face. If she was expecting him to say anything, it certainly hadn't been that. He had to be careful how he approached this, knowing better than anyone how guarded she was. If she felt threatened at all she would shut down and lock him out.

“…unbiased; without judgment, without giving unwarranted advice or worthless pity. Someone who wouldn't think any less of you, no matter what you told them. I am going nowhere fast and if you would like to talk, I am willing to listen.” His voice was low as he spoke thickly accented words and Emma found herself soothed by the sound.

She swallowed hard willing herself not to cry, especially not in front of Gold. For ten long years she carried the weight of this secret; she’s never had family or friends to confide in. Therapy always seemed pointless. She spent far too much time and energy trying to forget everything to go spend endless amounts of time and money rehashing it. But perhaps tonight in the company of a man she doesn’t trust and barely tolerates; she was just tired enough and crazy enough to break her silence.

With only one option left she walked right up the bars, her face only inches from his as she searched his eyes for some hidden, ulterior motive. His chocolate brown eyes were soft, gentle; almost…empathetic? That couldn't be right – this was Gold! Storybrooke's one man mafia; the harshest, most unsympathetic man she'd ever met who just almost beat a man to death over a teacup! There wasn't supposed to be anything soft or gentle about this man. And yet there it was staring right back at her. She felt her defenses weaken despite herself; her shoulders relaxed slightly as she released the breath she didn't know she was holding.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he offered once more.

“Tell you about what?” she rebuffed rolling her eyes; her defenses still in play.

“You're nightmare…” his voice remained calm and patient as her eyes drifted to meet his. _Was she really considering this? Was she really about to tell Mr. Gold the one thing she has never admitted to anyone?_ Releasing a long, exasperated sigh, Emma moved to the couch beside Gold's cell. _Yes, apparently she was..._ Curling up in the corner of the couch, she brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. The bed in the cell squeaked loudly as Gold sat down facing her, waiting patiently for her to begin.

“I haven't had that nightmare in years…” she began hoarsely, her eyes focusing intently on the ground, “…at least not until I saw Henry. He looks so much like…his father, and I try so hard to hide it. I don't want Henry to think I gave him away because of him. He was just an innocent born into this mess.” She wiped a tear that had escaped her eye, still pointlessly trying to appear strong and in control.

“I was sixteen when I was sent to live there. The mother was never around, I think she was a hooker. The father seemed kind at first, but it didn't take long for his true colors to show. He used to watch me, stalk my every move. He didn't beat me often, but it happened more than once…” her voice trailed off as her eyes went dark at the memory. Gold sat motionless and silent, afraid to remind her of his presence.

“He started touching me a few months after I turned seventeen. I thought about leaving, but at that age I wasn't likely to find another home. I figured that I could endure a few more months and then I would be out of the system, and  _no one_  would ever lay a hand on me ever again.” Gold could see her body trembling; could hear her struggling to keep her voice calm and steady.

“This one night, I had fallen asleep on the couch while watching TV. Something woke me up and he was watching me and uh…he was touching himself.” Emma swallowed the bile that was rising up her throat; the tears burning in her eyes.

“I shot up, made a run for the stairs but he caught me and threw me to the couch and he…he…" She had never said it, not out loud; to anyone – and she was about to say it to none other than Mr. Gold. Her eyes drifted closed and she summoned every ounce of courage she had as she whispered,

“He raped…me…he raped me…” No sooner had the word escaped her lips that her chest began heaving, resting her forehead to her knees as the sobbing took over. After having been buried for ten years, the repressed emotions wracked her mind and body. All the shame, disgust, misery and fear she experienced at the hands of that monster came rushing to the surface with terrifying intensity.

Gold held back the tears that filled behind his eyes, watching helplessly as she wept. He was powerless to do anything to help her;  _just like Bae; just like Belle_. He remained silent, knowing all too well that there was nothing anyone could ever say that would make it better, make it hurt less. Instead, all he could do was reach through the bars and grasp her hand gently, offering her the comfort of his presence and understanding.

To his relief, she didn't flinch at his touch, didn't slap his hand away with a sarcastic quip or insult. She simply grasped his hand desperately as if it were a lifeline, squeezing tightly. Gold realized with a measure of regret that he hadn't given the man a bad enough beating. As far as he knew the worthless piece of scum was still breathing, but that could always be remedied. If he had his magic, he would’ve turned the bastard into the slug that he was and relished the sound of crushing him beneath his boot.

Emma was grateful that the bars separated them, otherwise she might be tempted to curl up in his arms and allow him to hold her. But that would've made her vulnerable, and she couldn't have that. She spent too many years being guarded and keeping people at arm's length to become vulnerable now. After what felt like hours Emma uncurled herself, wiping away the last remaining tears that stained her cheeks. She remained seated on the couch as her breathing finally began to even out. With no prodding necessary, Emma continued.

“It was only a few days before my eighteenth birthday that the police showed up and removed me. Apparently someone had made an anonymous report about the abuse. I've never figured out who it was.” Still clutching Gold's hand in hers, she absentmindedly traced the edge his hand with her thumb as she spoke.

“I've never been able to let a man touch me since. Graham...was the first man to kiss me in ten years. I don't know if I would've been able to go any further, I've never been brave enough to try.” She paused; thinking fondly of the man she might have loved, but would never know.

“I was terrified - beyond terrified when I found out I was pregnant. I had no job, no family, no friends; I couldn't support myself much less an infant. So…I gave him up; I knew he'd never have a chance if he stayed with me.”

“What happened to him…your foster father?” Gold finally asked, already knowing the answer. Emma stared off, shrugging her shoulders indifferently.

“Uh, as far as I know he is in jail. I never had to testify; he pleaded guilty to all charges…kind of bizarre, actually.” Emma breathed a sigh of relief, resting her head against the couch. She closed her eyes in relief at having released this burden at long last. Reluctantly, (though she'd never admit it), she released Gold's hand. His hand was tingling, feeling the loss of Emma's touch. Her thumb caressing his skin had been the first real human contact he’d had in thirty-plus years.

“Do you feel any better, love?” he asked softly, his head resting against the wall. Emma stared straight ahead and nodded; the slightest hint of smile forming on her lips.

“I feel lighter; I don't know about better…” she answered honestly, liquid green eyes meeting his, "Thank you…for uh, listening." She whispered, feeling awkward as to what she should say.

“You're welcome...” He replied, his eyes staring straight through her. Gold wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of his own memories that berated his mind. He hadn’t thought for a moment that by listening to Emma it would trigger emotions that he’d thought buried lifetime’s ago.

It was Emma's turn to watch Gold’s expressions change; gone was the hard, manipulative man she had known. Before her now was a younger man, a broken man...the man he was before he became  _Mr. Gold_. An entire lifetime was reflected in that one look and it made her heart constrict with sorrow. While anger was present in his far off glance, it was the overwhelming sadness that caught her attention. They say that the eyes are the window to soul and Emma watched as his eyes told a story of shame, regret, loneliness, fear and pain. She couldn't imagine the scene that was playing in his mind, but she felt obligated to ask.

“Are  _you_  alright, Mr. Gold?” Emma asked quietly, studying his eyes intensely. She hoped maybe she could somehow repay the service he had done her. “You seem…far away.” Gold inhaled deeply and turned his head to look at her. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, forcing a smile.

“I was just thinking…about the harshness and cruelty of life to ones so young.” He said sadly, his eyes focused on the cot beneath him.

“Ones…as in plural ones?” she clarified, raising a curious eyebrow. Gold stiffened, not realizing he had given something away that he had _never_ intended.

“To children, you know, in the system…” He lied coolly, hoping she wouldn't notice. But then again, this was Emma.

“Gold, you're lying.” she said with a smirk, watching as his jaw line tightened. “And if you would like I am still here…if you have any dark secrets of your own that you'd like to share.” Gold couldn't help but smile. Yes…perhaps after three lifetimes it was time to let it go.

“I was twenty-one when I was dragged into a war that I didn't believe in; one that I had no desire to fight…” he began, not missing a beat. Emma once again curled herself up, angling her body to face him.

“…I had a wife then, she was expecting our first child.” His voice trailed off, becoming so soft that she strained to hear him. Emma couldn't hide her look of shock; she never suspected that this man ever had a family.

“We were facing…an indestructible enemy. We were all children with no fighting or military skills, but all able bodied men and women were placed on the front lines. I witnessed so many children; friends of mine that I had known all my life, ripped open – ripped apart by a ruthless evil. I wanted nothing more to do with it. So one night while everyone slept, I slipped out from the tent; a deserter – a _coward_. I was discovered two days later by a search party; they dragged me back to the battlefield where my company…had been slaughtered. Every last one of them dead…except for me,” He said, seeming to come to life with rage at that statement.The tears he had been holding could no longer be contained.

“As punishment, I was held down by three soldiers while the leader, branded the word 'coward' into my leg,” Gold paused; intensely quiet for the next few moments. Emma sat holding her breath in horror, waiting for Gold to continue. He brushed the hair from his face and the tears that had fallen; breathing deeply he continued.

“I guess they figured I was already in position to, uh…” his voice trembled, trailing off. He took several more deep breaths to control his emotions before continuing. “They all took turns; laughing and cheering each other on. At some point I passed out; I don't know how long it lasted. When I woke up, my leg was broken, and I was branded forever. Somehow I made it home to my wife, who by that point had given birth to my son. I was lame and broken, both in body and spirit. She heard what happened she left, leaving our son with me to be raised by a coward. This limp – my leg is a daily reminder of my humiliation – my  _mistake_ …”

The words were spoken with malice and a sense of deep regret. Emma felt herself crying, grieving for his pain. It made sense now, however, his constant drive – his need for power. She had no idea of the life this complex man had lived. She heard him sigh heavily and watched as his eyes changed back, and before her was _Mr. Gold_.

“So you see, my dear Emma, I know all too well what it is like – the nightmares, the flashbacks you wish would leave you alone. I wish I could tell you that they fade over time – they don't. All you can do is stare it down every day and you can either beat it or get beaten by it. I can tell you that you are a true fighter, and I believe you are stronger than you realize. It's how you can look at your son with love, and not hatred or disgust.” Gold smiled warmly at her as his eyes locked on hers. They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts; never breaking eye contact.

“I'm so sorry; Gold, I had no idea.” Emma offered weakly. He simply nodded in response. There was nothing she could say, she knew that. But she still wished there was something she could do. She hadn't expected this; never thought this was possible. Part of her felt honored that Gold would share something so personal with her, that he trusted her that much. The other part of her knew that this was still Mr. Gold; ruthless, manipulative; calculating. But for right now, he was just another broken soul who happened to share the same pain as her; it didn't matter whose was deeper. Silence resounded throughout the station as each wept quietly for their own pain and the pain of the other.

They were so caught up in each other that they didn't hear the door open, or the echo of Regina’s high heels in the hallway. Regina stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of them, saw the mess in the Sheriffs office. She watched them in stunned confusion before she said anything. They sat facing each other separated by the cell bars, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot locked intently on the other. Their faces red and puffy as if they had been crying.

“Well, what's going on in here?” Regina asked breathlessly, eyeing the pair suspiciously. Emma jumped at the sound of her voice as Gold merely leveled her with a cold, hard stare.

“Uh, nothing…we were just talking.” Emma replied hesitantly. "Is it daytime already?" she asked incredulously looking out the window. _How long have they been talking?_ Regina rolled her eyes and shook her head disapprovingly.

“Yes it is, Sherriff, has been for a few hours now. Welcome to the day.” Regina replied in a huff. “Anyway, Mr. Gold's bail cleared; he's free to go.” At that, Regina turned on her heels and stormed off.

Emma and Gold exchanged bewildered glances before breaking into fits of hysterical laughter. Perhaps it was just the need for an emotional release after such an intense night of soul-bearing, but the more she laughed the better she felt. Wiping the tears that fell from her eyes, Emma went and retrieved her keys and walked to Gold's cell; trying to control her laughter as she handed him his cane.

“Thank you, Sherriff…” Gold leaned heavily on the cane, clutching the teacup closely as he stepped from the cell.

“What is that?” Emma asked, motioning to his hand.

“That…” Gold began, limping passed her, “…that is another story for another day, dearie.” He followed Emma to her desk as she retrieved the rest of his belongings and handed him the small envelope. Perhaps it was just the high of having released such a heavy burden, but Gold felt compelled to share one last secret. He had no idea how she would react, but it was time she knew the truth.

“I have a confession to make, Emma…” Gold began, his voice somber. Emma held his gaze, her smile fading when she saw the seriousness of his expression. She sucked in a breath and held it, waiting nervously for what he was about to say.

“What is it?” she asked in a whisper, now seriously concerned he was about to confess to murder. He tapped his cane repeatedly on the floor before he began.

“Emma, I have many people who work for me, in all of my various dealings. When I was looking for a child for Regina to adopt, I came across your file. I knew you were too old for  _her_ , but I was intrigued by you. I knew even then that you were something special – something extraordinary…” Emma’s breathing intensified as he spoke; a mix of confusion and fear flooding her body.

“I assigned two of my associates to keep an eye on you; inform me if you were ever in any trouble. When they told me of the bruises they had seen on your arms and face, I was on the next plane to Arizona. When I landed, I made the anonymous phone call that had you removed from that house.” He paused long enough to take a deep breath; sorting out his thoughts. Emma fell to her chair in stunned silence; bewildered, angry; confused as she stared at him. Gold continued before she could find words to speak.

“The two associates I assigned to you were on the police force. They were there the day you were removed, they held him at the house until I arrived.” once again he paused, tapping his cane nervously.

“Let's just say that the beating I gave that man make's what I did to Mr. French look like child's play. After I was done, I told him that he would be pleading guilty to all charges and that if he didn't…well; you get the idea. I wanted to offer you my help then, but you had run…and you kept running. After you gave birth, I allowed Regina to adopt Henry in the hopes that I would catch up to you one day, and give you the chance to get to know him. I was also able to keep a close on eye him, the way that I had so longed to do for you.”

 _'He called…saved me; beat him…arrested…gave Henry to Regina…"_ Emma cradled her head in her hands, shaking in confusion. She suddenly felt lightheaded, dizzy from the overwhelming amount of emotion that surged through her. There were words – words that she should be saying. Her chest heaved frantically as she struggled for breath. Should she thank him for removing her from that nightmare? Should she beat him to a bloody pulp for having her followed, and handing her son to that sociopath? There was just too much to process…

He watched Emma's reaction, her eyes moving frantically as she tried to make sense of everything he had just told her. Perhaps it was too much to reveal to her in one night, but she deserved to know, and she needed to hear it from him. Her eyes finally lifted to meet his, and he smiled in return.

“Good day, Sherriff. Thank you for last night; I apologize if I have upset you.” And she knew from the look in his eyes that he meant it. This was the Gold she knew – that as she searched his eyes, there was no hint of regret, no shred of remorse to be found. Leaning his weight on his cane, he nodded his head ever so slightly, politely excusing himself.

“Thank you, as well.” She managed to stammer, struggling with the words as she tried to catch her breath. She stared after him in shock, awe and bewilderment as he limped from the station. This was Mr. Gold; a man never to be trusted.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. I thrive on constructive criticism and comments so feel free to post your thoughts. Just please don't be hateful about it. : )


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